


Gotta Be You

by mediwitch3



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Pining, eleanor bashing on harry's end, minimal caroline bashing on louis' end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediwitch3/pseuds/mediwitch3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis really hates Caroline Flack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Be You

There’s nothing worse than being in a room with people you cannot stand, and having it broadcasted on live TV to boot. Your grin stretches across your face, cracking your lips open and piercing your cheeks and you can  _feel_  the fake seeping into your mouth, your eyes, and everything is  _red_  because you hate her, and you’re angry with him. She’s a  _whore_ , and he’s  _yours_ , and neither of them had  _any_  right to do what they did. So you do what you do best: you crack jokes.

“ _Which girl do you fancy the most, Harry?”_

Without thinking you say the first thing that comes to your mind.  


“ _Caroline.”_  And everybody’s laughing, because it’s just  _so_  funny, isn’t it? And Harry’s got that look on his face that says he’s angry, and he feels awkward, and it  _serves him right._ You’re just kind of going through the interview, listening to her  _whiny_  little voice, and his  _irritatingly nervous_  answers, and answering a few yourself, but not really paying attention. You make a few more comments, you  _want_  him to feel the awkward that’s permeating the room and infiltrating the entire interview. He starts again on another answer, and it’s littered with “uh”s and awkward pauses, and  _dammit_  that’s  _your_  job. So you do the only logical thing: you laugh. It’s awkward, and it’s nervous, and it’s sounds  _wrong_  even to your ears. But there’s a certain satisfaction in your belly when he turns to you with an angry expression and says,

“ _What? seriously, man?”_  And you can’t help but extract the michael out of the situation just that one more time.

“ _You’re just so distracted, man! Everything you say is like ‘uuuh’…”_  You’re both leaned around the three boys in the middle to look at each other, and he’s looking at you with that irritated smile on his face, and you just look back with that  _fake_  grin plastered on your face. The words and the smile taste vile on your tongue and you’re wondering why you agreed to this in the first place. But you just sit there, with that horrible smile on your face and wait for this to all be over, and you know that Harry’ll be angry with you later, but you just can’t bring yourself to care because this is  _his_  fault, not yours.

And when the interview finally ends, and you leave, you know you were right, because Harry hasn’t looked at you once since it ended. But don’t care, do you? No. Because you’re vindictive, and the anger is still running hot through your veins. In fact, his response is only making you more furious. He doesn’t have the right to be angry with  _you_ , he brought this on _himself_. And you can feel the eyes of your mates burning holes into your head and back and that only fuels your anger more because why is  _everyone_  blaming you. Poor little Harry, can’t handle a little bit of teasing from his  _best mate._  Liam clears his throat.

“Er, Harry? Are… Are you alright?” Daddy Direction to the rescue. Harry turns around, but doesn’t look at Liam. He’s looking at you instead, and he’s furious.

“No, Liam, no, I’m  _not_  alright. You know  _why_  I’m not alright? Because that  _asshole_  decided tonight was the night he was going to make me look like a complete and utter  _tool._ ” His words only serve to make you angrier and you respond in kind.

“Shut up, Harry! You have no right to be angry with  _me._  If you didn’t want people to make fun of you for kissing that  _whore_  you shouldn’t have kissed her in the first place! You don’t even like her, you’re just using her—”

“Like you have any room to talk! What the hell are you doing with  _Eleanor_ , then, Louis? What is _she_? You’re using her, too! She actually  _likes_  you, and—”

“Do  _not_  bring her into this! She is not relevant to the conversation! At least she’s my  _age_ , Harry! When Caroline was fourteen, you were an  _egg_  in your mother’s  _ovary!_  It’s  _illegal_ , apart from anything else! Not to mention,  _disgusting_. She’s old enough to be your  _mother._ ” Harry lets out a bark-like laugh, and the sound grates on your ears.

“You have  _no right_  to tell me what to do, Louis. None  _whatsoever._  You  _knew_  I didn’t like Eleanor. You  _knew_. And you completely ignore how horrible she is to me, all the time, because all you see is her ‘fit’ body. Is that not  _wrong_ , Louis? Dating someone for their body? Dating someone who’s  _blatantly rude_  to your  _best mate_? You lost the right to tell me what to do when you started dating that  _demon_.”

And with that Harry’s off, striding down the corridor with a glare on his face. You don’t know what to do. You and Harry  _never_  fight like that,  _never._  Your stomach sinks and your heart clenches and your face feels hot and oh, no, here it comes. The tears bubble up and tip themselves over your eyelids, racing and chasing each other down your cheeks. You cross your arms across your stomach and sink to the ground, curling in on yourself. You hear Niall go off after Harry, after spending so much time together, everyone knows each other’s footsteps. Liam sinks to your right, and Zayn sits on your left, throwing an arm around your shoulders. This pushes you over the edge, your sobs come faster as you bury your face in your knees and wrap your arms around your shins. Zayn’s rubbing your shoulders, and Liam’s rubbing your back, and it’s all too much.

You hate yourself, you hate him, but most of all, you hate  _her._  She is the reason things blew up. If she hadn’t kissed him, none of this would have happened, and oh god, why couldn’t you keep your mouth  _shut?_ You absolute  _idiot_. You start to rock back and forth, because it _hurts_. You’re sorry, you’re more sorry about this than you’ve ever been about anything in your _life_. You whisper it to yourself like a mantra.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so, so, so, so  _sorry_. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You feel Liam get up beside you. Zayn’s still rubbing your back, but right now that’s not what you want. That’s not what you  _need._  You  _need Harry._  You want  _Harry_. You need him to come back and hold you and tell you it’s okay and accept your  _goddamn_ apology. Then there’s footsteps racing down the hallway, but you couldn’t care less, because it’s most likely  _not_  Harry, because when Harry gets angry, Harry  _stays_  angry.

But then Zayn’s hand is being removed and you’re being pulled forward and you hear the blazer crinkling and you smell his cologne and it’s  _him_ and you’re  _home._  It’s an awkward position you’re in, you’re both on your knees, but you cling to him because he’s all that matters right now. You’re still crying, and it hurts but you can’t stop. So you cling a little tighter and whisper your apologies to him, over and over again, and pray to whoever’s up there watching to help him forgive you. Your nose presses tighter behind his ear and his hands dig into your back and it’s the most comforting thing to  _feel_  him all around you and your heart is chanting  _Harry, Harry, Harry._  He is  _everything_ , he is  _everything._ And as another sob wrenches your throat, and your lungs stutter, and you hear him singing softly in your ear  _(It’s gotta be you, only you),_ you realize, finally,  _why_  this is hurting you so much. You most  _certainly_  have never been in such a state over a fight with anyone else,  _ever_. It’s because…

“ _I love you.”_

It’s whispered sweetly into his ear and you can feel him relax.

“ _I love you, too, Lou. Always, and forever.”_

Your heart is soaring and your heart is pounding and your brain is crying and you’re not thinking so you pull back a little bit and you  _kiss him._  And good Lord Almighty, is that not the best thing you’ve ever felt? It’s wet, and it’s messy, and after a beat he’s kissing you back, and you’ve never felt so at home in your  _life_  and is this what love feels like? If this is what it feels like to love and to be loved in return then you never, ever,  _ever_ want to leave his embrace. But air is necessary for survival, and as wonderful as this kissing thing is, you have to  _breathe_. So, cursing every deity you know of, you pull back. You keep your eyes closed (do you remember closing them?) because what if this he hadn’t meant to kiss you back? Or worse: what if it was a dream? The pressure of your forehead against his and the burning in your lungs reassures you that,  _no_ , it wasn’t a mistake, and,  _no_ , it isn’t a dream.

Reality comes rushing in, flooding your already shattered mind, and creating mayhem were Harry’s mouth had created peace. Your eyes widen, and you pull further away from Harry, not leaving his embrace (didn’t we already decide you were never going to do that again?), and see three shocked faces staring back at you. There’s no disgust, just surprise. That’s fine, you can deal with that later. You’re scared to look at Harry, but you know it has to happen, and it has to happen  _now._  You turn to him with a sheepish smile, and are greeted with a raised eyebrow. You glance at your hands, which have migrated from his broad shoulders to the lapels of his blazer, and look timidly up at him through your eyelashes.

“Um, so, I may or may not have just realized that I’m in love with you?” It comes out as more of a question than anything else, and it’s once again met with that damned eyebrow, though there’s mirth twinkling in those beautiful green eyes of his, and it gives you hope. You grin a little bit more back at him.

“Hint: it’s may.” This brings his eyebrow down from its place near his hairline, and brings a grin to his face and a giggle to his mouth. He rolls his eyes at you, gripping your cheeks and kissing you again, quick and sweet. He’s got that infuriating half smile on his face.

“I may or may not be in love with you as well. Though at least I’ve known it for a few months.” He gives you a pointed look, but you’re so overjoyed that it’s immediately disregarded, in favor of kissing him again. You can’t really get into it, though, because you’re both smiling like idiots, and the world could be ending for all you were paying attention.

Niall sniffling is what brings the two of you back. You both look over and see his face buried in Liam’s neck, and exchange a confused look with Harry. Liam nudges Niall when he notices your gazes, and Niall lifts his head, glaring at the two of you through his tears.

“It’s about goddamn time! Do you two realize how long we’ve all been waiting for this to happen?! The amount of faith, and emotional investment that was put into this relationship? You two are idiots, you could have had each other for over a  _year,_ but  _nooooo_. You’re so fucking oblivious!” He huffs a little, and turns his nose up. Liam and Zayn share an exasperated look.

“What Niall  _means_  to say is: congratulations, guys. You deserve each other, and we will support you until the end. I think they need a little privacy, yeah? Come on, mate, stop crying!” Liam says, grinning, and he, Niall, and Zayn traipse off down the corridor.

You turn back to Harry, an uncontrollable smile splitting your face in half. He grins back at you, before pulling you forward so you’re sitting astride his lap, and he’s got his back against the wall. You move your hands to his curls, which, as everyone knows, you’ve always had a special fondness for. You tangle your fingers in the messy locks, using your position on his lap to push his head back so he’s looking up at you. You kiss him again, and  _God_ , you are never going to get used to that wonderful feeling. You smile down at him as his hands grip your thighs.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hi.” He whispers back.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?”

“If you break up with Eleanor.” And you love the way he spits her name out of his mouth. It’s never really occurred to you  _why_  he hated her so much, but now you know, it’s almost  _funny_ how jealous he is and has been over a girl you never even liked. So you pull your phone out, and shoot her a text.

_ We need to talk. Call me later. _

You’re hands fall back into his hair, like they belong there. You kiss him again, the smile still threatening at your lips, and crinkling by his eyes.

“ _I love you,”_  you whisper.

“ _I love you,”_  he whispers back.


End file.
